Soldiers of the Dead
by Silvermoon42
Summary: An assortment of one-shots created by finding random nouns from each letter of the alphabet. Ratings, theme, length, and mood will vary. I will adjust the rating as needed. Focuses mostly on Hitsugaya, but will include others.
1. Aftermath

**Hello there! This is the first chapter of a series of one-shots that were spawned by randomly flipping through a dictionary (a real one - surprised I had it, actually) and picking one noun from each letter of the alphabet. Therefore there will be twenty-six of these total. Rating, mood, length and theme will vary. I will change the overall rating as needed.**

 ** _Word:_ Aftermath  
 _Word Count:_ 1241  
 _Characters:_ Hitsugaya, Matsumoto  
 _Rating:_ K+  
**

 **Disclaimer: All rights for Bleach go to its respective owner(s).**

* * *

 **Aftermath:** A consequence or result, especially of a disaster or misfortune.

* * *

When all was said and done, when the dust had cleared and the cries of the wounded had faded away (which only happened two ways, and he supposed both were a relief of some sort), he sat on a heap of rubble from a building demolished sometime in the fighting, and wondered what it was all for.

Oh, sure, he knew the easy definition. Aizen was a traitor, a monster, a murderer. He had started the war, and it was kill or be killed. And so the armies had met together in one last showdown in a fake town built for just this purpose. Both had killed and been killed.

And though he supposed that it would be called a victory, it would not be a celebrated one. They had won, but at the same time they had completely and utterly lost. Aizen had been captured, and was now residing in a cell below the Central 46 chambers (irony rearing its ugly head once more).

The more difficult definition, the one that he wasn't sure even Aizen himself completely understood, was that the war was not really a war. It was just one battle – bloody and demoralizing, yes, but a battle nonetheless – in an unceasing war that had been fought since the first souls had been born and twisted into Hollows. Aizen had given the mutated souls new power, new intellect, and new abilities, but in the end they were still Hollows. And there would always be more Hollows, for the souls that became them would never cease to be born.

Hitsugaya sat on the rubble and absently rubbed his left arm, the one that Aizen had severed and Inoue Orihime had reattached. He kneaded the still-tender flesh, fingers skipping over the raised ridge where his skin and muscle and bone had been linked together again. Inoue had told him that she could remove the scar completely, but he refused. There were others who needed her more than him, and besides, it would forever remind him of what he had done. What he had done…

The rhythmic crunch of debris told him that someone was approaching. He lowered his hand from his shoulder, still staring ahead. Fourth Division Shinigami were swarming over the ruins of the fake Karakura Town, searching for survivors or the dead. All too often he saw them find someone, gather others to help lift a hunk of cement or rock, bend down and stand up again, much too fast.

"Captain?"

The single-word question was spoken in a low enough tone not to carry, yet loud enough that he could still hear the weariness and exhaustion that did not come from exertion. He turned his head just enough to see Matsumoto standing behind him. She was putting her weight on one foot and pressing one hand to her stomach where the creature had hit her. Her robes were shredded and gray from dust, and her eyes were shadowed.

Hitsugaya's only response to her query was to shift slightly on the rubble, indicating that he would allow her to sit beside him, even if only because she looked about ready to collapse at any moment. She took his silent invitation eagerly, and settled herself down with a relieved sigh, beginning to massage her side with adept fingers. "I almost can't believe it's over. I keep thinking, _there's still more; we have to keep fighting_ , but no. We won. Aizen won't be getting out any time soon. Tousen's dead, and Gin…"

She trailed off, but Hitsugaya stayed silent.

"I didn't think Captain Unohana would let you go so soon," she continued with false cheer. "Usually she has to strap you to a bed to get you to stay down." Her attempted smile was unappreciated and unreturned. He stirred, and roused himself enough to respond, but not in the way she was obviously hoping.

"I didn't go to Unohana. Inoue…" And, just like his Lieutenant, he found that he couldn't finish his sentence. There didn't seem a point.

The two sat in silence for some time, just watching as wounded Shinigami were treated and sent to the Fourth for further care. The frantic calls and adrenaline slowly drained away, leaving behind tired, dull-eyed soldiers who had seen far too much in far too little time to far too many people they knew. The dust settled and the sun set, bathing the sky pink and gold. Beside him, Matsumoto took a deep breath, gingerly lying back until she was flat on her back, hands still resting on her stomach protectively. After a moment, one came up and gently tugged at the back of his ruined haori, persisting stubbornly despite his warning growl. But eventually he gave in and soon found himself lying on his back on a large slap of cement of what he thought used to be a clothing store.

(The thought that, for once, Matsumoto was practically inside a clothing store and not trying anything on was enough to get a weak twitch of his lips, nothing more.)

"The clouds are beautiful, aren't they?" she asked, and he forced his eyes to focus on the fluffy water vapor above him. She was right, he supposed, but at the moment, the pink glow of the sunset was only reminding him of blood staining white fabric, and he dragged his gaze away again.

Unperturbed by his silence, the Lieutenant continued. "I've always liked the clouds. They're so soft, and peaceful, and fun. That one looks like a bunny, doesn't it?" She pointed with one hand at a cloud off to the side, and since he had nothing better to do (although he knew that the inevitable confusion and disorder resulting from war was waiting for him as soon as he returned to the Soul Society), he followed her finger. The cloud did look like a rabbit, if a rabbit's fur was dipped in crimson blood.

Matsumoto shifted her hand to point at a thin, oblong cloud. "And that's a watermelon, see?"

He did not see. Watermelons kept their red on the inside.

"Look! There's a dragon! Just like yours!"

(Hyourinmaru stirred at this, looked at the cloud through Hitsugaya's eyes, and sniffed disdainfully.)

She kept pointing out more clouds and kept coming up with more and more outlandish shapes until he snapped at her to be quiet. She was still for about half a minute before rolling her head over to look at him. "Everyone's hurt, Captain," she said softly, and he tensed. The sun had set enough by now that the pink had leeched from the clouds, and a nighttime chill was starting to steal the warmth from the cement slab under them. "You're not alone."

She said nothing more on the subject, and instead went back to pointing out clouds and their shapes, and this time he allowed it. He allowed his mind to focus only on what she was saying, and what she was looking at. Nothing else mattered but the shapes in the clouds. Her rambling continued on for several minutes, until she pointed to a cloud and hesitated. Hitsugaya looked more intensely at it.

"Daffodil," he decided. Matsumoto grinned.

"A daffodil it is, then!"

The war was devastating. Many died. Grief would be carried in their hearts for years to come. The unending war would continue forever. But for now, just for a few more minutes, they were done. It was over. And they could finally relax.


	2. Baneberry

**_Word:_ Baneberry**  
 ** _Word Count:_ 1040**  
 ** _Characters:_ Hitsugaya, Hinamori  
 _Pairings:_** **None**  
 _ **Rating:**_ **K+**

 **Disclaimer: All rights for Bleach go to its proper owner(s).**

* * *

 **Baneberry:** Any of several plants having clusters of white flowers and poisonous red, white, or blackish berries.

* * *

For someone who cared little about aesthetics in general, flowers seemed to have a presence in his life whenever something major happened.

The first time they appeared was when he met Momo. It was winter then, and he could remember, as he laid still in the soft snow that was becoming progressively less cold, wondering how it was that such a fragile thing could survive in the harsh season of bitter frosts. He remembered stretching out a hand to brush against the stalks that swayed slightly in the gentle wind, deadly and aloof as the snow that gathered up around it. He remembered thinking that it truly was strong, despite its appearance.

And then there were hands on his shoulders, turning him onto his back. A soft voice spoke above him, filled with genuine worry. "Hey, are you all right?"

The next time he saw the plant, he was seeking a quiet place to take a few minutes to compose himself after running from the loud woman with the dangerous chest. This time it was growing on the banks of a river, its long stalks drooping just inches above the running water. It was the beginning of summer, and its berries were just starting to shrivel. He dipped his hand into the water and let it drip onto the plant.

Later, when he knocked on the door to his grandmother's house, wearing the black and white Shinigami uniform and a neutral expression doing nothing to contain his excited smile, the plant was eking out a life in the dry dust by the path.

Years passed without him seeing them, and in truth he didn't think much of it. Momo was the one to urge him to stop and 'smell the roses' (an expression she'd picked up in the Living World somehow and was quite taken with), and he really wasn't overly concerned with flowers. So, when he literally fell out of the sky the first time after achieving Bankai, his last action before drifting into the waiting darkness was to notice the plant's presence with a bemused, "Huh."

It was only when Matsumoto plunked a potted plant on his desk, saying it was an anniversary gift for surviving his first year as Captain, when he took a closer look at the plant. White flowers on a white stalk, berries of white, black, and red which also happened to be extremely poisonous, and roots which were suitable as painkillers.

His response was to ask why she was giving him a plant with poisonous berries. He realized that he wasn't the most social Captain to ever exist, but was his presence so intolerable that she had to go to such lengths as accidental food poisoning to knock him off?

(Needless to say, that was the last time Matsumoto ever gave him a plant as a present.)

And now, lying on the ruined heap of a building in the fake Karakura Town, left arm severed and the resulting wound bleeding heavily, he fixed his hazy gaze on the flowers sticking up through the rubble.

They really are sturdy, he thought lazily, and shifted his heavy body enough that his right hand could touch it. Pain flashed through him, stars exploding behind his eyes and making him grit his teeth, letting out a low groan. The plant was just out of reach, and for some reason he felt that he needed to get to it, needed the feel of something soft in his hands for one last time. He shifted again, and Soi Fon, who was lying nearby, watched his efforts without any real interest.

His vision blacked out before he could reach them, and when he regained consciousness again Inoue was kneeling beside him, her glowing dome stretched over his form, and with a shock he realized he had a left arm.

It was only a couple weeks later, when Soi Fon wandered into his office, looking exactly how he felt when something was placed just out of reach, that he thought about it again. She asked why he had been trying to get to the flowers. He merely blinked at her, his memory of those few minutes very hazy, and she left without an answer.

He realized the answer to her question a few days after. Unohana sent a Hell Butterfly to tell him that Momo was awake. He went to her immediately, of course, and was relieved when she turned clouded brown eyes in his direction and said, "Shiro…"

If it wouldn't have compromised his reputation of being a cold, emotionless prick with a stick up his behind, he would have fallen to his knees right then and there in the Fourth Division hospital room and wept until he ran out of tears. It was enough to know that she didn't blame him, that she didn't hate him anymore.

As it was, he only grimaced a little and half-heartedly said, "Don't call me that, Bed-Wetter Momo."

Her eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again a new light shone in them. "Thank you," she whispered, and although he wasn't sure what she was thanking him for, he just nodded.

Deciding to take the night off, he went out of the Seireitei and just wandered around a forest. He eventually found a lake and sat by it to watch the sun set. It was then that he saw the plants again. This time they had white berries growing on them. And there was his answer.

The berries were always present, always there at the next step, at the next level. They were a way out, his ticket to end it all whenever it all just got too much. But he had resisted. He had kept going, no matter what happened.

The next time he saw Soi Fon happened to be after a Captain's meeting discussing who to promote. The young Kuchiki's name was put in and heavily considered for a Lieutenant's position, despite Captain Kuchiki's blatant scowl. Hitsugaya went up to Soi Fon outside the meeting hall before she could shunpo away.

"It was baneberry," he said, and left. She was undoubtedly confused, but she was a spy, and spies know how to get information. He had no doubt she would understand.


	3. Carbon

**I do realize that this took a _long_ time to post, but real life has been very busy, and I can't promise regular updates. I will try to work on the rest, however. Stick with me. We can make it if we stay as one.**

 _ **Word:**_ **Carbon  
 _Word Count:_ 852  
 _Characters:_ Hitsugaya, Matsumoto  
 _Pairings:_ None (noticing a pattern?)  
 _Rating:_ K+  
**

 **Disclaimer: All rights for Bleach go to its rightful owner(s).**

* * *

 **Carbon (Paper):** Paper faced with a preparation of carbon or other material, used between two sheets of plain paper in order to reproduce on the lower sheet that which is written or typed on the upper.

* * *

 _We tracked the Hollow to the 29th District of the Rukongai, where it…_

 _Crash!_

Hitsugaya gritted his teeth.

 _…was on top of a villager's house, attempting to…_

 _Bang!_

He took a deep breath.

 _…rip open the roof in order to get inside. We surrounded the house and engaged…_

 _Smash!_

"Keep it _down_!" he yelled, slamming his brush onto the desk. The noises stopped.

"Sorry, Captain," came the innocent reply. Hitsugaya sighed and turned back to the report.

 _…at approximately four thirty pm. The battle lasted approximately ten minutes. We subdued and purified the Hollow._

 _Smash! Curse._

Hitsugaya looked up.

" _What_ in the name of all that is good in this world _are you doing_?!"

Matsumoto appeared from the closet looking irritatingly unabashed. "Cleaning out all our old junk," she replied happily, rubbing her arm. Hitsugaya groaned.

"Did you somehow manage to injure yourself?" Just his luck. He _had_ to get the _one_ Lieutenant in the whole of Soul Society who could manage to get injured in a closet. In Division headquarters.

"Just a scratch," she replied, lifting her hand to reveal that it was, indeed, just a scratch. "The big issue is – it's _so dirty_ in there!"

Hitsugaya tried to remember why he kept this woman around. "It's a closet. Of course it's dirty."

"Well, yes, but the dirt got on _me_. _That's_ the problem here."

"Not the only one," Hitsugaya muttered. Then he raised his voice. "What were you doing in there, if it's so dirty?"

"It's dirty!"

"Yes, we've established that."

"Then why do you – oh!" Matsumoto clapped her hands. A cloud of dust rose up. "You want to know why I went in there, if it's so dirty."

Hitsugaya touched his finger to his nose.

"It's simple! The closet's dirty, so I wanted to make it clean!"

 _"She was right, it was simple,"_ Hyourinmaru said heavily. Hitsugaya didn't have the energy to reply.

"And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Make it clean."

"Oh. Yes. Well – sort of."

"How can you 'sort of' make it clean?"

"Well, I got – I got distracted."

 _"Surprise, surprise."_

"I'll show you!"

Before Hitsugaya could formulate a protest, Matsumoto had spun on her heel and disappeared back into the closet. She reappeared a moment later, carrying something big and bulky in her arms. Hitsugaya managed to get all the papers off his desk and into his lap just in time as it thudded down. "Is that a…typewriter?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Yup!" Matsumoto poked one of the raised keys, and a type smacked the paper. Leaning forward, Hitsugaya could just make out the faint impression of a 'k'.

"I didn't even know we had one," he said, fascinated. It looked…odd, to say the least. He tentatively pressed a key, and another type lunged forward. 'E'.

"Before your time," Matsumoto said. "The previous Captain brought it back from the World of the Living _years_ ago. I'd forgotten about it."

"How does it work?"

"Well, you…press this, and it does this, then you…press this again…"

"Matsumoto, you're just pressing 'l'."

"Well it's working, isn't it?"

"Is it like a computer?" Hitsugaya turned it around and studied the levers. Inversed, raised letters were printed on a flat space of each. There was a complicated series of drums and springs around them, and he tried to follow the path of how pressing a key would make the lever hit the paper.

And the paper… Why were there _three_?

"Matsumoto, I don't think there's supposed to be three papers on the…cylinder."

She shrugged. "That's what the instructions said."

"There are _instructions_?"

A faded, yellowed pamphlet was shoved in his face. He took it by the corner and started flipping through the pages. Complicated diagrams and labels described drums and levers and bells and springs and…oh. There _are_ supposed to be three papers. He squinted at it.

"Carbon paper? Paper is not made of carbon, I know that."

"Let me see." Matsumoto snatched it back and examined the small print. "Well, it does say to use carbon paper, whatever that is. See? Here."

Hitsugaya batted it away. "I'm confused, not illiterate. Stop putting things in my face."

Matsumoto straightened up with a chuckle. "Captain, don't be like that. We both know this isn't the worst thing that's ever been in your face."

"What?"

"Never mind me," she replied, poking at the typewriter again. Another letter appeared on the paper with a loud clunk.

Hitsugaya wasn't willing to let that one go just yet. "No, I'm serious. What's the worst thing that's ever been in my face?"

Her sly grin did more to convince him to drop the subject than her words ever could. He turned back to the typewriter.

"So, carbon paper. What does it do?"

Matsumoto consulted the instructions with a triumphant expression. "For…making copies," she said at last. "Don't ask me to explain any further."

Hitsugaya was tempted to do just that, but relented.

"Hey, want to try it?"

He did.

* * *

 _There were no civilian or unit casualties. At approximately six o'clock we returned to Division Ten._

Yamamoto peered at the words. "Strangest handwriting I've ever seen," he muttered.


End file.
